


Your Voice Is the Melody to My Soul

by Eggsyobsessed



Series: Kingsman Collection of Promtps [12]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Car Accidents, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, POV Merlin (Kingsman)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggsyobsessed/pseuds/Eggsyobsessed
Summary: Merlin’s always been enthralled with Eggsy’s voice, the pitch, how it resonates through his ear, right to his soul. It isn’t until a bad, civilian car accident nearly takes his husband away, does Merlin realize how much he’d miss hearing it.
Relationships: Merlin/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Series: Kingsman Collection of Promtps [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662037
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	Your Voice Is the Melody to My Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sorryallonsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorryallonsy/gifts).



> This was a tumblr request, that turned out longer than I expected, and per my own personal rule—if it’s longer than 1K—I’m posting it here. 
> 
> Requested by Sorryallonsy: If you’re still taking prompts, I’d love Merwin with Merlin realizing how much he loves to hear Eggsy talk when put in a situation where he can’t hear him (be it Eggsy in the hospital, on a secret mission with no audio, or whatever you want) and deciding that he’ll do whatever he can to make sure that not another day goes by without Eggsy’s voice in his life :)

There were many times Merlin assumed he’d never hear the sweet sound of his husband’s voice. A soft, gentle whisper where the warmth of his lover’s breath brushed against his ear, or the mirth filled chuckle through mission audio. How quickly Merlin knew it could be torn away. Assignments where Eggsy’s life was put at greater risk than the average man. There was always that uncertainty, that perhaps Merlin’s job wasn’t enough to bring the young agent home. To bring his husband home.

A relationship with a Kingsman agent brought so many risks. Some more deadly than others. So the last thing he’d expect to hear were the voices of sorrowful cops, asking if Merlin was Mr. Hamish Unwin. Only to notify him that the one man he loved could lose his life.

“...an accident.”

“...rushed into the ER.”

Merlin felt all the air leave his lungs, like someone knocked the breath right out of him with an unprepared blow to the stomach. His chest ached with need for oxygen that his body just stopped providing. How could he be concerned with something as vital, so important to his survival, when he was being told his husband fought for his own life.

“...cab ran a red light. Hit the driver side before he could see it coming.”

Their description painted the causality for him. An accident Merlin hadn’t witnessed with his own eyes, but be damned if he wasn’t going to pull up surveillance around the city. Though revenge was the least of his worries, especially when his presence was needed at hospital. Merlin was fortunate to be dressed for the day, though he doubted clothing would be of a concern, and followed without question. He left behind a curious JB, and made sure to notify Harry on his ride. He felt thankful the cops offered him a lift; Merlin was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to drive himself.

Worry. An emotion Merlin was well accustomed to.

He had to learn to separate personal feelings from the job, needing to be the best he could be, guiding all agents; his own husband included. Even with decades of practice, worry seemed to be the most prominent feeling he held onto; it was well ingrained by now, easily managed despite countless questionable missions and outcomes. So worry he did, but he never once accounted for worry that would be brought by a civilian accident. Not when Eggsy faced the world's villains on a regular occurrence.

Suddenly that bright, sunny laugh that resonated through their home, when JB did something that tickled Eggsy, or Michelle sent a video of Daisy walking on her hands, it all vanished. It was as if, in their five years of marriage, he worried for the first time he’d never hear it again. Or how Eggsy crooned their wedding song when missions went poorly, and Merlin was left feeling failure and regret. Soft melodies that caused him to yearn for a child, hoping one day Eggsy would sing tender lullabies to their children.

These were things Merlin worried they’d miss, mourning the loss of opportunities before he had a chance to find out how bad Eggsy was. Logistics didn’t concern him, not as he barreled through hospital doors, demanding information before he gave his name at the reception desk. His heart pounded, doing leaps and bounds against his chest, threatening to bust through his chest cavity and rush to find Eggsy. The man who was his world, every reason for living, his physical, breathing, living heart. Who at this very moment lay on a surgical table as London’s finest surgeons removed a lung—damaged beyond repair, Merlin was told—and repaired his shattered femur. The question of his ability to walk without assistive devices were on the table, but none of this was what troubled his mind. If Eggsy made it out of this alive was of the utmost importance.

It felt like years, decades, before he was given more information.

“...he made it out.”

“...if he wakes...”

IF he wakes. Merlin felt his heart stop, breathing halted at the notion Eggsy could possibly leave this Earth.

“...a long road ahead of him. He has age on his side.” They ran down the list. Four broken ribs, removed lung, repaired femur, broken humerus and wrist. All on the right side. Multiple contusions, bruises and swelling accompanied the ever growing list.

Merlin thanked them, once he found his voice, and counted the seconds until he was permitted to see him. It was hours, Merlin was sure, when a nurse called his name. He felt numb. Unaccustomed to being the one to receive the information, and not be the informer.

“We have him under a medically induced coma, to help him recover from the trauma.” The nice, short middle-aged nurse said. Bethany, he read her name tag, guided him through double doors that proclaimed this area the ICU. “He can hear you,” she promised with a gentle smile.

The expression was thought to bring him comfort, but he felt little right now.

From the right side Eggsy was near unrecognizable. The swelling was so severe it nearly took up his whole face. Merlin would have been afraid to touch him if it weren’t for one good, unmanaged hand that contained IV’s. His anxiety flared, but he took some comfort that he could caress his left arm, avoiding wires and IV’s as he did. He didn’t speak for a long moment, afraid if he tried, he’d break down and if Eggsy could hear him, his ears would be filled with the sorrow of his husband. That’s not what Eggsy needed to hear now, not when his life hung in the balance.

It was as if Merlin’s voice was taken, too. Because he barely said a word since he’d been brought here. Only enough to insist on answers when Doctor’s gave updates. He waited, with bated breath, when they eased the sedatives three days later. Pleased with Eggsy’s recent MRI results, the swelling on his brain had gone down, and the decision was made in hope he’d wake up. They were uncertain if there would be any lasting damage from traumatic brain injury, unable to determine that based on his scans.

The first signs were slight, hand twitching, involuntary movements that confirmed Eggsy was in the process of waking. It wasn’t like you saw in movies, where the injured woken and recognized their surroundings, or even the person who sat beside them. The process was far slower, painful as it were to watch, and took a solid week before Eggsy opened his eyes.

They were unfocused and blurrily scanning his surroundings. Merlin would have jumped the first moment Eggsy did this, but he knew not to startle him. He very carefully reached over Eggsy to press the call-light, earning attention to himself even as he tried to avoid it.

Glossy blue-green eyes widened for a moment, until recognition washed over his alarmed features, and his eyes softened.

Before he could speak a word, hoping to coax a small response out of Eggsy in desperation to hear his voice again, nurses and his surgeons arrived. Merlin was ushered out in order for an examination to be done, and by the time he was allowed back in, Eggsy was asleep again.

They told him he’d wake sporadically. Eggsy may or may not address him, but this was the process. Again, not flowery and romanticized like films. It was a long, grueling thing. Torture to the one who had to watch it, but watch he would.

And he did wake, on and off, sometimes he stared at Merlin, others it was just quick little spurts that didn’t even last thirty seconds. A day went by, hours passed where Merlin hadn’t seen Eggsy’s gorgeous eyes. His longing grew. When would he wake WAKE and just say his name? The answer was not an easy one to bear. Time, he was cautioned.

On the second day, when Merlin was sure he’d slip back into a coma and never speak to him again, Merlin began to sing their wedding song.

The Way You Look Tonight, never sounded as smooth off his tongue. His voice was too deep and certain notes were beyond his abilities to match Frank Sinatra. Though that never seemed to be a problem for Eggsy. And what he wouldn’t do to listen to him again, if even for a small moment.

Merlin was on his second attempt at the song, feeling sure he butchered something that represented the best day of his life, when someone softly said:

“I sing it better.” The voice was rough and scratchy, a hushed whisper that could barely be heard. “Hamish.” It was his name spoken by this foreign, yet familiar, voice that earned his attention. Eggsy’s eyes locked with his, realization filled the pair that Merlin loved so much.

All he could do was chuckle as tears filled his own, spilling down his cheeks until they soaked his face, and nodded. “Aye. Ye do.” He wouldn’t voice how relieved he was to hear Eggsy speak, not when his careful kiss, to parted lips, said it all. “I love ye,” Merlin whispered in a rush, worrying Eggsy wouldn’t be up long enough to hear that.

Dry, chapped lips drew up in a crooked smile as Eggsy’s left hand fumbled to hold his. “I love you, too.”

Eggsy didn’t say much more past that, not for another day, but it was everything Merlin needed to hear to keep hope.

His heart would pull through.


End file.
